Miz looks at his phone and sighs. Instead of going to commentate Main Event again, he's just received notice that he'll be among the superstars flown out to Europe and will thus be missing both Wednesday's show and Smackdown. Assuming that this means Alex will be doing commentary in his stead, he packs quickly and kisses AJ, wishing her luck on Friday, before leaving for the airport. It leaves him with a whole flight to dwell, think about things, and only get angrier. The conversation with Del Rio had only explained some of what had been weighing on him the last few months, though it had left him with more worries and uncertainty. He can't help but wonder if he should just ignore what Del Rio had requested of him and just go ahead and tell Ricardo, ease the younger man's torment at least a little... but he keeps thinking that it'd mean more if it came from the Mexican aristocrat himself, though he doubts that's possible considering how stubbornly Alberto is holding onto his not finding out at all.
Conflicted, he shakes his head, glancing out of the nearest window at the sky that seems unending outside of the plane he's currently traveling in. Although he wishes everything was as straight forward as fixing Ricardo's problems could be, he has a multitude of his own jockeying for attention. Like how, no matter how hard he tries to be likeable and accessible to the WWE Universe, cheerful and willing to do what's asked of him, it's never enough. The Authority sees him as nothing but a utility player, and the WWE Universe can't even give him 20% of the vote in a poll for a match against the man who'd destroyed him over and over again in front of his family, his friends, AJ... He closes his eyes and grimaces, wanting desperately to know how to fix everything in one fell swoop. Bring John back, let Alex be healthy and have the career he wants, give Ricardo some peace and stability, keep AJ safe and happy, and let himself be liked and successful in the business that he'd fought for so hard, for so long, to be a part of.
But he doesn't, and he's not even sure if any of it's at all possible...
He's been in Europe a few days when he wakes up, groggy and disoriented. It's not until he hears the sharp beeping of his phone that he remembers, yawning and fumbling for it. As soon as it's quiet, he locates the remote in the hazy darkness and turns the TV on, flipping through channels until he finds Smackdown. He half-dozes through the first bit of the show, only coming to when AJ's theme music plays, Mike forcing himself to sit up against the pillows as he watches his girlfriend and her enforcer wrestle- and beat- Cameron and Naomi. He smiles and relaxes against his bedding when she leaves happily, blinking slowly as sleep once more claims him shortly afterwards.
The TV drones on until he's startled awake again, this time by a familiarly accented voice and he squints again at the TV, lips twisting when he realizes that Alberto Del Rio is in the ring, talking about how ill he'd been when he lost the World title. Miz rolls his eyes, sneering skyward. "Yeah, right," he mutters, unsurprised when Cena interrupts and begins mocking Del Rio for his claims. It looks like they're going to have a World championship rematch that night, but Vickie interrupts and announces it will instead be held at Survivor Series.
Mike hums as she, incensed at their insulting her after this, puts them both in matches for that night, Del Rio's against Khali and Cena's against Ryback. His interest waning, he turns the TV off and sighs, burying his face in the pillows once more as he chuckles dryly at the memory of Alberto's claims of sickness... though his humor quickly fades away as he reflects sleepily on the conversation they'd had yet again. With Thanksgiving looming ever closer, he can't help but feel guilty for allowing the ring announcer currently in Florida to continue thinking Alberto hates him. Even though I still think it'd mean more if Del Rio told him himself, in his own words... if he keeps refusing to, then maybe I should just bite the bullet and tell him what was said anyway... He groans, knowing that sleep will continue eluding him the longer he ponders this.
"I'll ask John when I see him next, then," he mutters, closing his eyes. "He'll know what to do... he always does..." Marginally comforted by this thought, his faith in his best friend unwavering, even after all this time, he dozes back off.
"Sorry," Ricardo says abruptly, surprising Alex as he gingerly attempts the rehab exercises the WWE trainer had recommended, his roommate sitting nearby and counting off the sets for him.
Riley pauses and looks up at him, frowning. "What're you apologizing for, man?"
"That I'm leaving for England while you're still here, rehabbing. I promised to help and-"
"Hey, don't worry about it. I know how much you love traveling. Besides, if you get a place on one of the cards, that's great, man. I don't want you feeling like you need to risk your own chance at success just to help me. I'm a big boy, I can handle things around here on my own for a few days."
Ricardo releases a soft breath, staring down at the sheet of paper depicting each exercise. "I know, it's just..." He sighs and closes his eyes. "I'm not sure what to do when I'm not supposed to be helping someone, you know? I mean, I did it for so long for Del Rio... this, here... I guess I'm still getting used to it. Even with Rob, it was... just weird."
Alex winces sympathetically and reaches over, taking the paper from him. "Well, the main thing you need to remember, Ricardo, is I'm not your employer, in any way, shape or form. I don't want you to feel obligated to do things for me, like you might've done for Rob or Alberto. We're roommates, and we're friends, so yeah, we'll still be helping each other out now and again, but it won't be the same for you like it was in the past, alright? This is your home, and I want you to relax, be comfortable here... not feel like you're constantly on the clock or something."
Ricardo nods wearily, opening his eyes and looking around the living room. There's little sign that he actually lives here, everything in the room still Alex's... though his pumpkin from Halloween remains on the front stoop, and some of his favorite drinks and snacks fill the fridge and cupboards. He knows it's not much, and supposes that Alex has begun to worry about it, after three months... his not unpacking that much or spreading out his things beyond his bedroom, but he can't quite bring himself to make that step. Not yet. He had allowed himself to get comfortable in Alberto's house, and had paid dearly for it.
On some level, he figures that Alex would never do to him what Del Rio had done, but then again, he had thought the same thing about the Mexican aristocrat once upon a time... Shaking his head, he turns his attention back to his roommate. "Alright, Alex. I'll... I'll try." Riley grins and claps him on the arm before squeezing his shoulder. "I should go get packed, then," he murmurs, standing up. "Thank you, Alex."
"Anytime, man," Alex tells him, watching as he goes. He tugs his cell phone out of his pocket and sighs, glancing down at it. Mike had been suspiciously quiet, in texts and on twitter, since losing that poll the week before, and although international costs on cell service or mobile web can be ludicrous, it's not like him. He sighs, hoping that Ricardo being in England will at least distract Mike, help him to get past this. At least for a little bit.
Mike sighs heavily as he leaves the airport terminal, AJ by his side as they drag their luggage towards the doors, Tamina following behind them slowly. "I'm glad to be off of that plane," he mutters to AJ, squeezing her lightly as she nods. "Now, let's see..." He only has to glance around for a bit before he spots who he's looking for, face lighting up. "C'mon." He drags her over to the younger man, smirking. "Now, Ricardo, didn't I tell you you didn't need to meet us here?"
The former ring announcer laughs and looks up as Mike snags the hoodie of the WWE jacket he's wearing and tugs it back off of his head, letting it fall against his shoulders. "I know, but I was heading back to the hotel from Old Trafford anyway, so I figured why not? Might as well pick you guys up so we could split a taxi and I could give you guys your keycard to the room."
"How considerate," Mike chuckles, following him out to the taxi while AJ curls in closer to him, all of them pausing only long enough to toss the bags into the back of the cab before getting into the car, Mike's hands steadying his girlfriend as she sits in his lap, Tamina on one side and Ricardo on the other, all of them watching Manchester zip past as Ricardo talks a bit about the football game he'd just seen, the bright red of his football jersey just visible over his jacket. "Sounds like it was a good game, man," Mike says finally, grinning over at the ring announcer. "Glad you got to see it."
"So am I," Ricardo grins back, relieved that Mike seems to be in a better mood than he'd expected, considering what happened the week prior and how it must've sucked for him. "I love international tours... getting to see new places and all of that."
"Well, it definitely seems to agree with you," Miz murmurs, running his hands through AJ's hair as she leans into his touch. They all fall silent, however, when the cab driver begins randomly humming what sounds like an N'Sync song, Mike biting his lip when he realizes that Ricardo also is humming along, AJ's eyes wide as they look over at the younger man.
He flushes when he realizes they're watching him, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Eh... sorry?" Mike does laugh then, shaking his head fondly at him, clapping him on the shoulder. Before anything could be said to reassure him, the cab pulls up to the curb at the hotel they're all staying at and they quickly pay before getting out, Mike, AJ and Tamina grabbing their things and following Ricardo inside. "It's a really nice room we have," he explains as they bypass the hotel lobby and go right to the elevators. "The whole hotel is pretty amazing, though."
Mike can tell, by just looking around the elevator area and hallways on the way to their room, that it's clean and quiet, comfortable. All that a WWE superstar could ask for after long flights and rough matches, really. And more than they usually get sometimes. So when Ricardo pulls out the keycards and passes one over to Mike, before unlocking the door, stepping aside to let them all in, the first thing Mike does is walk over to the bed and collapse atop the nearest mattress, sighing as he breathes in deeply and tension eases out of his body when he exhales.
AJ's laugh is soft as she runs her fingers through his hair, sitting down next to him while Ricardo obligingly moves their bags to a corner with his own, so the floor is clear and no one will trip and fall. She watches with a bit of a smirk as he turns to find Tamina staring at him, her gaze unwavering as he gulps and steps back, almost tripping over the bag he'd just moved. He's starting to stammer and try to slink past her when the Divas champion speaks up, unable to completely hide the amusement in her tone. "Tamina."
The enforcer immediately drops her bag next to where Ricardo's standing and moves away to sit down on the couch in front of a TV, not bothering to look for the remote or anything, seemingly content to just sit there in silence. The younger man swallows and stumbles back over to his bed, still looking a bit weirded out by it all. "AJ," Mike mutters after a moment.
"Mm hmm?"
"Could you keep your enforcer from giving Ricardo a heart attack? Or anyone else for that matter?"
She sighs in a put-upon fashion before leaning over to kiss his neck. "I suppose if I must." As he smiles sleepily, her lips twitch up as well and she nibbles slightly at where his neck meets his shoulders, causing him to shiver a bit, before settling in against his back, releasing a soft, tired sigh of her own. "Only because I love you."
"Love you too," he murmurs, comforted by her warmth blanketing him enough to fully fall asleep himself.
Raw is about what Mike- and Ricardo- expects. They arrive at the arena, Ricardo already dressed in some of his gear just in case Del Rio is there early, and Mike turns to look at him. "You ready for this?" He nods grimly and Mike releases a soft breath, Alberto's words once more echoing in his mind. He shakes his head glumly and hands over the mask that had hidden Ricardo sufficiently enough since all of this mess began to be known as El Local while he works through everything. "Here you go."
"Thanks," he mutters, pulling the mask on and adjusting it until he can see through the eye-covers and still breathe normally. "Look alright?"
"Yep, man, you're good to go," he nods. AJ had arrived earlier with Tamina, since she was always anxious to get a feel of things as divas champion, so they exit the cab together and walk towards the arena. AJ's locker room is close, thankfully, but they only stop in long enough to drop their things off and say a quick hello before walking side by side to the general manager's office. Which is a mess already, Maddox, Vickie and Kane all marking their territory in the relatively small room, since The Authority is apparently on vacation this week...
Mike rolls his eyes, not sure what that will mean for any of them, but he approaches the three with a weighing gaze, staring distrustfully at Kane, who barely seems to even notice his presence. "What can we do for you, Miz?" Vickie asks, her voice going straight through him as always.
He can feel El Local behind him, and this more than anything gives him the inclination to not just give up in disgust and storm off. "Do you have a match for me tonight or not?"
There's a lengthy pause as the disagreeing authority figures stare at him, glance at each other, and then... "No," all three say at once, one of the few things he thinks they'll probably agree on tonight.
He glowers at them, hatred growing more and more until... he feels El Local's gloved hand on his back and swallows, forcing out through grit teeth: "What about him then?" He jerks his thumb back at the younger man hovering behind him.
Maddox and Kane look somewhat perplexed as they peer at the masked man, only Vickie recognizing him from his matches on Smackdown a couple weeks ago. "No," she says on her own this time. "Maybe on Smackdown."
"Whatever," Miz mutters, snagging El Local's bright ring gear and dragging him back towards AJ's locker room, too disgusted to hang around any longer than is necessary. "Let's wait around long enough for AJ's match, and then we'll go find some pub and put all of this behind us, alright?"
"Alright," Ricardo agrees, tugging the mask off and taking a deep breath once they're safely inside and far away from prying, gossiping eyes, Mike's grip on his collar slipping away finally. As he storms off to go run splash some water down his face, Ricardo watches him worriedly, wondering if he'll be ok. Although the past few months had been pretty God-awful for him, Mike also had had a pretty damn bad road, and Ricardo hopes that he'll be alright, get past it all... though considering how fresh what Alberto had done is still in his own mind after all of this time, he wonders if maybe there are things some people can't move past, no matter how much they'd like to...